An eatery on footpath and a buffet for the poor
The eatery owner fears authorities may evict him from footpath
He has no idea what the word buffet means. Yet, on a cracked stretch of footpath in Agargaon, Mizanur Rahman has created one of the most unusual versions in the city.
There is no waiter chasing diners with bills, no cashier at a counter. Instead, customers scoop rice, curry, meat or eggs onto their plates, eat to their fill, then quietly slip money into a wooden cashbox. No one checks and no one asks.
This is Mizanur's experiment in trust – what many now call "the poor man's buffet".
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What began with just three kilograms of rice now consumes an entire maund each day. In less than a year, the one-man kitchen has gone from feeding rickshaw-pullers and day labourers to attracting office workers, students and curious visitors from across the city.
A YouTube video turned him into a sensation, changing everything for a man who only wanted to feed the hungry.
"I only knew many people in this city can't afford a full meal", says Mizanur. "So I thought, why not open a place where they can eat properly?"
Roots in hunger
Mizanur grew up in Chandpur's Haimchar. In the early 1990s, he arrived in Dhaka with nothing.
He scavenged vegetables from Karwan Bazar to survive, later sold veggies from a cart, and finally worked in a rickshaw garage.
Food was always a struggle. Many nights he went half-fed. Those memories never left him.
A year ago, he decided to open a small rice hotel in Agargaon's Talatola bus stand area – both for himself and for people like him.
Beef and rice cost Tk100, chicken and rice Tk80, egg and rice Tk60. For rickshaw-pullers, there is a special vegetable-and-rice plate for Tk40. No matter the dish, rice and curry can be refilled endlessly.
"You can take rice fourteen times if you want. I won't stop you," he says. "People tell me some don't pay, or take extra pieces of meat. I don't look. I trust everyone."
One man, one kitchen
Every morning, Mizanur heads to Talatola market to buy rice, meat and vegetables. He chops, washes, cooks and serves – everything himself. Between refilling pots, he washes plates, slices lemons and pours water. From 8am to 8pm, the small eatery runs without pause.
"The pressure is huge now. Sometimes I can't catch my breath," he says. "But if I close even for a day, the people who depend on me – where will they eat?"
A taste of home
On a clay stove, he cooks beef in two batches and boils rice four times a day. He insists on BR-28 rice and carefully inspects each piece of meat at the butcher's.
Customers say it makes all the difference. "The food tastes like home, without too much oil or spice," says Abul Kalam, a hospital worker who eats here most afternoons. Rickshaw-puller Mohammad Zakir adds, "Three times I refilled my plate. Where else can you eat chicken with rice for Tk80?"
Fame and burden
Two weeks ago, frustrated and nearly broke, Mizanur considered shutting down to return to vegetable trading. Then a YouTube channel filmed his shop. Overnight, the video went viral.
Now, about 400 people eat at his buffet daily. Sales range from Tk28,000 to Tk30,000, though expenses eat up much of it. Just beef and chicken cost him nearly Tk15,000 each day. He often buys groceries on credit, settling bills once his cashbox fills.
Only a few days ago, Mizanur introduced a token system for customers after struggling to keep track of the payments.
But the crowds bring problems too. The footpath outside is choked with visitors, some filming videos, others going live on Facebook. Customers complain of feeling like spectacles while they eat.
"Being viral has become a pain," Mizanur says. "There's no space, no chairs. People just stand around. And I fear the authorities may evict me from the footpath. If they shut me off, what will I do?"
For now, he has no plans to rent a proper space. He lacks the money, and perhaps the desire. Despite exhaustion, he wants to continue serving food under the open sky, as long as he can.
"I only know I started this with faith," he says, wiping sweat from his brow as another pot of rice boils. "The future, that's in God's hands."
